


Dreaming of Autumn

by frostedquill



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fourth Age, M/M, Sailing To Valinor, Third Age, reference to the lord of the rings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:44:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedquill/pseuds/frostedquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil has set sail to Valinor, in hopes of finding peace. Instead he finds nothing but sorrow and regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreaming of Autumn

**Author's Note:**

> This was suppose to be a one shot but it spiralled out of control. As I was writing this Somehow another story sprung from it, and a different one shot. Barduil has taken over my life. Shout out to the Mirkwood trash squad  
> They decided to name some of the background elves in the movie Meludir and Merenon, Remlos and Eredhon are their adopted children.

His arrival had been lackluster. He had arrived with a few members of his court Sinda and Sylvan alike, his eldest son left to rule, it had been an early morning and few had gathered to see who had arrived. Amongst those there he had recognized the former lord of Imladris and his wife, and the lady Artanis formerly known as Galadriel. With some reluctance he slowly began descending from the ship. The sun shone too bright, the sky was too blue and the quiet deafening. He wanted to run back to his ship and sail in the opposite direction, but pride, his greatest fault, urged him forward.

The moment he step foot on the beach he knew he was no longer able to turn back. He dared not look at his court to see if they shared his sentiment. As the customary greetings were traded he carefully evaluated his surroundings. He quickly noted that Elrond was dressed much more simply than his station would permit. He accepted to sojourn with Elrond, more for his subjects sake than his own, resentments and grudges, no matter how just, were best left on another shore.

Valinor was as beautiful as promised but his interest lay not in its beauty but in its occupants. His worries were temporarily laid to rest when he beheld the youngest of his children. Legolas shone with a light he had not seen in him in the last millenia and he looked content. For a moment he let himself believe that he could be happy in this place. His heart soared when he told him that his wife, his beloved Malrin, had been returned to life.  Despite this it took him several days to announce his visit to her.

She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her long golden hair had lengthened, her eyes were bright with life and her cheeks pink with health. Yet when he took her hand in his he did not rejoice. He was happy to see her, but the euphoria, the laughter, the heat, the desire he expected were noticeably absent. It troubled him, but he forced a smile on his face, and murmured words of endearments to her.

His father had also been returned to him but he chose to remain in the newly reestablished Sindar court. It did not take long for him to realize that his people, the sylvan were not highly thought of in this paradise. Some had nearly cried when they saw him. While they did not suffer, they were somewhat marginalized and dispersed. In a private discussion with his family, he found himself yelling accusing his father of turning his back on the people who had welcomed them when they had nothing. Legolas he knew was trying, having successfully established a still thriving colony in Ithilien, was trying to do the same in Valinor. He realized then that by trying to leave behind his pains, he had also left behind his power and influence. He was still a lord but it seemed by name only.

As much as it irked him to have centuries of his hard work and labor dismissed, it hurt to see his brave Sylvan treated with derision, as thought they were lesser because they chose not to complete a dangerous journey and did not have a Maia for a queen. They were hard of skin used to the disdain of others but they were a prideful  people.

He decided to meet with Elrond, who was attempting to recreate another last homely house and several other lords who seemed interested in his plans. Most of his people dwelled with the established Sindar kingdoms or on the outskirts of the forest. He hoped to have them all together in one place.

The promised peace was not for him and he found little joys on the shores of the promised lands. Ashamed to have led members of his court to this wretched realm he avoided them, only corresponding regularly with Feren who was like a tic in his tenacity, although a welcomed one. The only joy he found was rekindling bonds with his youngest.

He also spent time with Malrin, his wife. While it was said that even separated by death the eldar remained married to their spouse, this trope was only found in the laws and customs of the Noldor. The Sindar had loosely adopted some of these practises amongst their kin they were more flexible than they appeared. Thranduil while born of  Sindar parents, was sylvan in his heart, even though he would never know all the secrets of his chosen people, he had adopted their laws and customs as his own, and Malrin was part sylvan. The bond between them was broken and had to be reestablished for them to be married again. Thranduil found himself too tired to bed her an renew their bond. He decided that he would try and court her again. It would give them ample opportunity for them to discover each other again, time for them to fall in love again, and it sounded romantic. They were of the eldar, they had time.

As he wandered along an archery range a familiar mane of red caught his eye. He stopped to watch an elleth dressed in the colors of his kingdom firing arrows at a target. Her hair bore a series of intricate braids bound together by finely worked mithril beads and clasps, an elegant dress spun of spider silk hugged her frame. However her posture was atrocious and she nearly missed the target which was why it took him a moment to recognize the captain of his guard.

He called out to her and Feren who had yet to recognize her, looked like he had a minor aneurism. Tauriel's mediocre display no doubt deeply shocking him. She paused her bow fully drawn but he immediately noted how her hands shook and moved to take the arrow from her hand, before she injured herself or someone else.

"Milord." she greeted quietly.

"Tauriel. Were you trying to slay the idiots two fields over?"

"No milord."

"Then please refrain on putting on such a poor display." he ordered laconically. "For Feren's sake, at least. I have not seen him so offended since we travelled to Ithilien. Erynnor looks as though he is about to faint."

"Yes milord." she replied.

Her voice voice was devoid of the passion that characterized her. He had never heard her so defeated before. He quickly wracked his mind in an effort to discover what troubled her. It had to be something significant and powerful for Tauriel was strong and did not bow easily to pain. After all he had seen her hold on to life when the dwarf she loved died. He once more took in her appearance and realized that it had been almost two years since he had seen her. Brushing aside his guilt he placed the arrow in her quiver.

"Will you walk with us?" he offered.

"Of course."

He did not know how to approach the subject and apparently neither did Feren or any of her former soldiers. Of course he decided to wait for her to talk. Not one word escaped her lips but she had calm down at least. They took seven walks together before addressing the issue.

"Tauriel. You are no longer my captain and I your king. Still I remain fond of you, will you not confide in me what ails you."

He did not think she would answer, but she did. After a moment.

"Mahal, creator of the dwarves resides in Valinor, they said. I visited him, wondering if Kili might be set free from his halls. If I could see him."

"And he said no."

"He told me that he does not house the souls of dwarves."

Dread bubbled in his stomach. "Did he tell you what happens to them?" he asked thinking of the white haired dwarf residing with his son.

"Apparently dwarves, and hobbits, share the fate of men." she replied. "He told me that Eru is the one who created the dwarves. They were under Mahal's jurisdiction and he woke them up too early in his impatience." she explained derisively. "I came here for nothing. I should have stayed home. Near his memory."

"I am sorry, Tauriel." he said placing a hand on her shoulder. He wondered if Legolas knew this, and decided to address this later. "Would you like some wine?"

She looked up at him mouth slightly open. To his surprise, her sadness soon morphed into mirth.

"If I knew that all it took was wine to ebb your grief away I would have offered you some much sooner." He said pouring her a cup, which she accepted with a smile.

"It is not the wine but you." She replied teasingly. "King Bard once told me that offering wine was your way of offering comfort. It seems he was right."

Bard. Like a key the name brought for memories he had locked away in his heart and that had no place in the blessed Isle. For a moment all he could see was a dark haired man, with brown eyes filled with curiosity dressed far below his station. _"My lord Thranduil, we did not look to see you here."_ His lilting voice echoed loudly in his ears drowning out any other sound. The man stood fearlessly amidst the sylvan army as Thranduil arrived atop his elk.

_"You are wasting your time. Let others do these menial  tasks." he told him pouring a glass of wine. He was wearing that horrid brown outfit again._

_"Milord... You call removing the bodies of our dead menial?"_

_"I thought you were removing debris from the city."_

_"That too."_

__

_"Lord Dain is difficult."_

_"Difficult is putting it kindly." he replied pouring them some wine. The bowman was dressed in simple clothing but of better quality. He could not help but notice that the dark colors enhanced his features nicely._

__

_"Most of the houses have been renovated. At the moment I am concerned with the market place."_

_"The market place? Not your fields?" Thranduil asked pouring them each a glass of wine. "Not very wise of you Bowman."_

_"Our fields have been cleared since winter. We are expecting our first crops this spring, milord. I am inexperienced not foolish."   the young lord replied drily._

__

_"Why are you so pensive? I did not expect you to be so glum." He asked pouring them a glass of wine._

_"You would make me a king. There has never been a king of Dale."_

_"You do not desire the title?"_

_"The only thing I have ever wanted is for my children to be safe."_

__

_"You are worried." Bard noted._

_"The darkness has diminished, but it is not gone." Thranduil is tired and looking towards the forest._

_"Let me pour you some wine." Bard offers. "You will fight off the darkness when time comes, take now to prepare."_

 

_"Milord Thranduil, do you drink naught but wine?" He asked teasingly brown eyes alight with mirth._

_He paused in his movements. "Do you not like my wine?"_

_"I do, but I also like water and juice. Were I to kiss you I would taste nothing but wine."_

_Thranduil open and closes his mouth several times."I suppose you shall never know."_

_“Why not? I could kiss you and find out?”_

_“You would dare…” Thranduil says softly part disbelieving, part challenging. The idea has never crossed his mind before but it is not unpleasant._

_He watched, heart palpitating as Bard  slowly circled the study._

_He sat next to Thranduil, eyes alight with mischief. He slowly raised his hand and lightly ran his fingers over Thranduil's neck. As for the ellon he was frozen, his heart beating exceptionally fast and his breath short._

_"What are you doing?"_

_"Testing my theory." the man replied moving his face closer to his. He softly touched his lips to Thranduil’s for a brief moment, then repeated the gesture. A pleasant haze settled over the elf's mind and he could do nothing but part his lips.  Emboldened the mortal began to move his lips against his, and slipped his tongue in the soft mouth. In turn Thranduil began responding the kiss, slowly more hesitant._

_Bard pulled away and he opened his eyes to meet his. Bard's eyes had darkened, his plumped lips stretched into a smirk. He looked beautiful. He moved to straddle his prey and tangle his hand in the silvery blond mass that was the elf's hair. He glanced at his friend questionably.  Why wasn't he kissing him? In response Bard tugged at his hair slightly before kissing him again, this time aggressively. He found himself letting out strangled moans and soft sigh when the mortal tugged at his sensitive scalp and ran calloused fingers over his sensitive ears._

_"Does the rest of you taste as sweet, I wonder?"_

__

A sense of what the mortals called vertigo washed over him, as the past came crashing back.  The darkness, the vision of the dragon's body crashing into the lake, Bard, Sigrid, Bain, Tilda, Dale, Erebor, Arda and it burned.

"Milord...?" Tauriel asked concerned.

"It has been a while since I have thought of that time." he replies voice hollow.

"Do you not miss it?"

"Terribly." In truth he even misses Dain. He misses debating with the dwarf while Bard tried to keep the peace. He misses complaining about dwarves to Bard. He misses Bard. He misses the woods and his halls. He misses Dale and Erebor. He has missed them for some time but the loss feels keener in the undying lands. Perhaps it is because he's never let himself grieve properly and now he has time. Legolas walks in with Gimli and Tauriel excuses herself.

"What is wrong?" his son asks sharply. His feelings for Tauriel have diminished but he still cares for her.

"She has not found what she had hoped for in the undying lands." he replies. _Neither have I._

"I shall go talk to her."

"Wait a day or two."

That night after the festivities he found himself alone with his wife in her room. He kissed her softly at first then more harshly running his hands over her petite body. He overestimated her height and instead of chapped lips he met soft lips, instead of of a short hair he met long stands, instead of  strong calloused hands it was delicate fingers that ran through his hair, and instead of a strong chest soft breast. He pulled away as an intense pain wracked his left side. Malrin had slapped him and was looking at him with an expression torn between anger and fear.

Without a word he slipped out of the door. He found refuge in a tree with a bottle of wine. The tree did not feel as alive as those in Greenwood but it would do.All of the passion, the excitement he looked to find in his marriage, he found in the memory of a man. A man that he had given up.

_Bard looked at him, a variety of emotions playing on his face, none positive. Thranduil loosely holds the goblet between both his hands, to avoid them twitching. What he is doing is right, yet he feels so wretched._

_"I cannot be with you." Thranduil tells him. "We cannot be together, not in the way that you ask."_

_"Why not?"_

_" I am married."_

_"I thought your wife died."_

_"She did, but I am of the eldar and even in death we are bound for I will see her again on the shores of the blessed realm. I cannot forsake her, no matter what I feel for you."_

_"And what is it exactly that you feel for me?"_

_“We cannot allow this to continue.” Thranduil interjects._

_“There has been no continuation.” Bard says amused. But for Thranduil there has. He takes notes of anecdotes that might amuse the bowman and imagines his laugh when he recites them, he replays their discussions but the scenes are different they are no longer around a table but in bed or by a dying hearth, he thinks of arguments for Bard’s claims, and he secretly longs for Bard to tease him with the liberty he teases his friends, and in his dreams he has multiplied their encounters. There has been a continuation but it has all been in his mind. “All we have had so far is one tryst.”_

_“Is physical satisfaction all you desire?” he asks loftily, his heart hurts slightly. Did those teasing smiles, long discussions over a glass of wine, shared trials, shows of support, pledges of friendship mean nothing? but this is good, see Thranduil you have made a mountain out of nothing._

_“No.” Bard says seriously. “I want so much more. I want your smiles, I want to show you affection, I want more long discussion about politics, philosophy and the stinginess of dwarves, I want to see you, all of you, the good and the bad. I want for us to have a chance.”_

_“Bard…” Thranduil finds himself speechless. Why is that cretin so perfect?!_

_“And yes, I would like more trysts with you, innocent as they be.”_

_“You called that innocent?” He asks genuinely surprised. His mind returns to what happened in his boudoir on the lounge chair he can no longer look at. Bard had kissed him so softly almost curiously, tasting the flavor of his mouth and skin, calloused hands caressing his sensitive ear causing his hips to rise and fall in the most obscene manner.Then he had undressed him, or more accurately, unlaced an unbuttoned his clothes, slowly, patiently, methodically, and parted the folds of his robes open, his fingers grazing the soft skin beneath drawing an impatient moan from Thranduil. He left the robes on Thranduil’s body, like a gift amidst delicate wrapping paper. He then kissed his fingers, the inside of his wrist, the  crook of his elbow before kissing down his chest. He bit at Thranduil’s hipbone causing the desired effect, Thranduil’s hips rose and Bard pulled down his breaches in one fell swoop. He lifted one of the elf’s long legs and placed it over his shoulder and pressed a kiss to Thranduil’s ankle, then calf, then the inside of his knee, one hand maneuvering his leg for Bard’s convenience, the other stroking Thranduil’s belly or his other thigh. For all he is writhing from the mortals ministrations he is also a spectator._

_Then Bard looks up, eyes dark, mouth grinning and slowly kisses up his thigh, while his roaming hand slowly moves down his belly; eyes never leaving Thranduil’s. Bard shifts slightly to adjust their positions, Thranduil’s knee is hooked over Bard’s neck. Just as Bard’s hand reaches the base of his cock, his mouth engulfs the leaking tip, ripping a moan so filthy from Thranduil’s mouth that even in this state of heightened arousal he is startled, though not for very long. Bard licks, sucks and strokes, occasionally pulling away (making Thranduil groan in displeasure) to coat his fingers in precum and saliva. Bard leaves almost nowhere untouched. He sucks at Thranduil’s balls while pressing several digits around the tight ring of his ass occasionally slipping one inside. Then...then he doesn’t know what happens, he has lost all knowledge of language. He dimly remembers Bards mouth going back to his cock while his fingers roam deeper, for all that matters is the sheer intensity of the pleasure that rocks his body. He lies there exhausted and Bard atop him, fully clothed, without his volition his body gives two more long shudders while Bard watches his face smiling, no doubt pleased but perplexed at the sounds Thranduil is emitting. They kiss softly afterwards, Bard wipes away the tears that Thranduil would never admit to, and the ellon wraps him in his arms._

_“I could do much worse.” Bard promises smirking. “Shall I show you or shall I tell you?” he muses. “Perhaps both?”_

_Thranduil glares at him in response. However moments later he is straddling Bard’s lap chanting the man’s name like a prayer. The man is biting at his neck, while their cocks slide against one another and Bard’s hands are needing the firm flesh of his ass. Their situation is not unsimilar to the last: The fastenings of Thranduil’s clothes are undone and the garnements hang loosely around his naked body, though this time Bard’s tunic is gone and pants undone, allowing Thranduil the leisure of touching Bard. Bard brings Thranduil’s head forward nips on the lobe of his right ear before tracing out the curve with the tip of his tongue._

_“You like that elf?” he asks gruffly._

_“Yes.” he replies haltingly and Bard does it twice more._

_Soon he and Bard find themselves in the later’s bed beneath the soft sheets both spent. Being loved by Bard is different and amazing. This is not the delicate explorations of youth he experienced in Doriath or the couplings with his wife. There are no long declarations of love and desire interrupting the act for one, no subtle touches that last for days on end to culminate in a slow torturous end. Bard is not an elf, love making is not a matter of days for him and surprisingly Thranduil prefers it. Bard is sensuous and the pleasure they share profound and intense. Furthermore, Bard is male and all of his brushes with pleasure involved the fairer sex. He never imagined that two beings of the same sex could share something so profound. Of course such unions were allowed in Greenwood, life is too short not to be with the one you love, but he’d always imagined these sorts of relationships as sterile. Reminiscing Olsídhon look of horror upon his asking if it was possible for males to share pleasure had him blushing. He was the only ellon in his realm that had any long exposure with mortals, in fact Thranduil had found him sometimes too welcoming of strangers. Making love to a mortal is different the ellon tells him, but refuses to explain how. Now he understands, asides from the fact that Bard sweats and is hairy, his pleasure comes in short, sharp burst while Thranduil is still descending the curve._

_“I know you shall want to leave when I close my eyes, but please stay. I shall make it worth your while if you do. I want to wake next to you at least once in my life, consider it a gift to me.”_

_Bard needn’t have worried, Bard has his hands on him which could make him promise anything. Even if Thranduil had been planning on escaping he falls asleep or rather an odd form of reverie that is similar to sleep. He is the one who wakes to find Bard staring at him. The expression on his face is so tender and full of warmth that Thranduil’s heart becomes a puddle._

_“Good morning.” Bard teases._

_“It is almost dusk.”_

_“In this room, in this bed, there is no time, space or responsibilities. There is only us and the world becomes what we want it to be. So good morning.”_

_“Good morning.” Thranduil whispers back. This is unreal, a dream, so he can indulge. He kisses Bard and together they watch their first sunrise, though in reality it is more like the sunset of their lives together._

_“I love the look on your face when I please you.” Bard whispers close to his ear. They are facing away from each other but pressed against one another, Bard behind Thranduil. He closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh as Bard runs his hands over his torso. Bard is hardening against the swell of his ass and Thranduil vividly remembers Olsídhon’s explanations. “I want to taste you again, there were areas that went unexplored last time.” Bard says grasping his cock. Thranduil learns a new word that night: rimming._

_Fully dressed he glances at his lover once more. He cannot do this, he and Malrin have three children together, what they shared, what they would have again cannot be tainted by his love affair with a mortal, no matter how wonderful he is. Her death, what they shared cannot be nothing._

Thranduil is exhausted and confused.  He is also very drunk. How he makes it back in his bed he has no idea. He wakes up around midday, with his head hurting, Legolas by his side a book in hand.

“I am glad to see you conscious.” his son informs him.

“What happened?”

“I do not know.” Legolas replies curious. “Tauriel and Galion brought you back, drunk off your ass. If you did anything more embarassing than stumble around drunk I have not heard.”

He nods. “Thank you.”

“Ada. What is wrong?”

 _I am lusting after a dead man._ “Nothing…”

“Does it have to do with why you and mother have not renewed your bind?” he asks. Legolas’s eyes are shrewd, but full of compassion. He is no longer a child.

“I miss Arda.” Thranduil confesses.

“So do I.” Legolas says sheepishly.

Thranduil is startled. “You heard the call.”

“And I answered, it does not mean that I do not miss my home.” Legolas replies comfortingly. “Would you have diner with me and Gimli tonight?”

“That would be lovely.” Thranduil agrees.

It is more than the three of them, in fact it seems that Legolas has invited any elf that had once been apart of Eryn Lasgalen. For a moment he feels as though he has been returned to Eryn Lasgalen. The only languages to be heard are nandorin and avarin, somehow Berryl brew has found its way to valinor (Remlos' mysterious brew), as has dwarven whisky, and Thranduil is afraid to ask where the spider for the soup has come from (he eats it anyway). He spies Tauriel smiling with some of her former soldiers, the twins Meludir and Merenon, Feren has his arms about Eredhon who looks exhausted (valinor's stiffling protocols do not suit him).It is the first time since he has first seen Legolas again he smiles so brightly. At the end of the night he finds himself sitting next to Gimli.

The dwarf’s hair is completely white and he has little adornment aside his few beads braided in his hair. He recognizes the dexterity of elven hands in the braiding.

“What is it?” Gimli asked gruffly. “Never seen an old dwarf.”

“I’ve never seen one with so few adornments not since the reclaiming of Erebor.” Thranduil replies loftily.

“Once my father saw what the the gold did Thorin, he forbade us from being ostentatious. I’ve only ever worn the necessary beads.”

Thranduil must have looked surprised because the dwarf chuckled.

“Funny you would have thought he would have been the one to suffer from gold sickness, but it was Thorin in the end.”

“What are the beads for?” Thranduil asked curiously.

“There is one for every member of the fellowship.” Gimli says showing a thick braid to Thranduil. The elf king grasps it delicately. The braid is made up of smaller ones each with a bead, interestingly the beads run into two parallel lines with one gray and white bead at the center of the braid. “The one in the middle is for gandalf for while he was our guide he also stood alone.  The wood and emerald one is for Legolas as you can guess, I am next to him as the bead made of copper and stone. Frodo and Sam, Merry and Pipin, Aragorn and Boromir. The last two never got along, but Boromir gave Aragorn the strenght to claim Gondor.”

“Why?”

“Boromir was patriotic, and loved his people very much. He resented Aragorn because he placed more faith in your people than in those of Gondor, and that Aragorn wanted to claim the kingship as a prize for his lady.” Gimli replied.

Thranduil nodded in understanding. “What of the rest?”

“This is for Erebor and the blue mountain. Here we have Thorin at top woven with Bilbo at the center is Fili and then Kili and Tauriel.”

“I did not realize you knew them so well.”

“Aie. I was of age with Fili and Kili, a year away from my majority, we were very good friends Fili and I, so I also knew Thorin. As for Tauriel King Bard had her as his emissary. He wanted her to have the chance of learning more about Kili, and still be close to her beloved Mirkwood. We often spoke of him.” A shudder went through Thranduil at the name. As she was still banished Bard had taken in Tauriel as a thanks for saving his children.

_“What is she doing here?” He asked surprised at seeing his former Captain at the table. Tauriel had the good grace to flush._

_“Tauriel serves as a councellor to me. Is that a problem? ”_

_“Tauriel has disobeyed my orders, threatened me, and has overall proved unreliable. She has been banished from my realm. That she stay in Dale if she so wishes but I refuse to treat with her.” Thranduil had said calmly._

_“Is that true Lass?” Dain had asked surprised._

_“Yes, lord Dain.” she had replied._

_“Haha, we’ve got us a fiery lass, here.” Dain had exclaimed gleefully._

_“She also saved the lives of my three children and that of countless of Dale citizens.” Bard replied._

“ Further down are Bard, Sigrid, Bain and Tilda.” The bead for Bard is of onyx and ruby and thranduil finds himself stroking it. “Tauriel truly loved him, I figured I’d have her and Kili together in my hair if they could not have been together in real life.” Thranduil is quick to note that Bilbo and Thorin are braided in a similar fashion and it saddens him that their love could not bloom.

“You knew B… him… the king of Dale well?” he asks hoping that the dwarf does not notice his clumsy tongue.

“I knew his children well enough, my father often negotiated with Dale and took me with him. Bain and I trained together.”

“I never took you for a sentimentalist.” Thranduil said.

“We dwarves weave our poetry with our hands and with the earth as our instruments. We save our words for less meaningful things.” Thranduil is well startled.

“The sylvan sing because we want the world to take part of our triumphs and sorrows.”

“I have not heard your people sing since I’ve arrived here.” Gimli comments.

“There is no one to share with besides ourselves. The trees do not listen to us as they did in Arda.”

“And the others care not for your music.” Gimli says saddened.

“No.”

“You should make them listen. You are not invalid because you are different.”

_“We not live as long as your people, but it does not make our experiences lesser than yours and I shall make you listen.”_

“Such wisdom from a dwarf.” Thranduil says surprises.

“Such melancholy from an elf.” Gimli replies. “No shock there.”

“Tell me master dwarf, do you like it here?”

“N… It is not made for a dwarf.”

“Then why did you come?”

“For the honors. I am the only dwarf who has ever come here or who ever will.” ( **A/N:** His way of saying “I did it for the lolz” or  “I did it for the vine”.)

“Tis true.”

“Also because Legolas needed me to.” Gimli answered honestly.

Thranduil looks at him intensely.

“Being part of the fellowship changed all of us, for the better and for the worse; it wove a bond between the nine of us that I cannot explain. After the war Legolas took me to fangorn, those woods were unsettling, very alive, but it brought him joy. It was like watching a dwarf go underground again.However I also knew that Legolas could not be the last of us to roam Arda just as he would not allow me or Aragorn to be last. So I came with.”

“You are not happy here. You could have gone back to Erebor to be with your family.”

“My family understood. I was old when I left, might as well finish my life helping my friend. These lands are not made for dwarves neither were they  made for wood elves. ”

“No, they weren’t.” Thranduil agreed.

_“So your people sail to go to Valinor. That is your afterlife?” Bard asks disbelieving. They are lying in a clearing beneath a canopy of trees, their bodies parallel to one another with their faces pointing towards one another though they are upside down._

_“Yes.” Thranduil replied._

_“It is ridiculous.” Bard says with a snort._

_“Being insulting is one of your forte. I do not know why I put up with you.” he exclaims sitting up._

_“Thranduil, from what you’ve told me of your people they never wanted to see those shores to begin with. So why go at all?Furthermore, you mean to tell me that you are willing to take the risk of leaving Greenwood.”_

_“It sounds like an adventure.” Thranduil replies._

_“You mean to explore a land you cannot return from. It is like a bird knowingly flying into a cage.”_

_"It is not the same. Besides my parents were sindar."_

_"They were, but you are not. I have seen them from Rivendel and from the company of Gildor and you are unlike them."_

_"What am I then? Oh wise one."_

_"You are the king of the woodland elves. It is in the way you move and think, as though you are part of nature. A force of nature." This is the first time Thranduil feels the urge to kiss the mortal. "I know that you can navigate the forest, surf along the branches and kill spiders as well as any of the guards I've seen."_

_"How can you be so sure?" Thranduil asks. "You've only seen me atop my throne or my elk."_

_"I hope to see you atop different things in the future." Bard replies and Thranduil is confused. "You mean to tell me you let a young Legolas slip and glide at vertiginous heights by himself."_

_"Good point." Thranduil admits._

_"Regardless I have seen you fight on foot, sing to plants, you are as cheeky as all of the sylvan I have encountered and you have dragged me to watch the stars._

_"This was your idea. You brought us here." Thranduil protests. The view in this glade was amazing. It was atop a hill set between laketown and Dale. Bard had brought him here to see the sunset, Thranduil had asked to stay to watch the stars rise. “And you of all people calling me cheeky?”_

_"I didn't expect for us to spend the night here."_

_"We can go back." Thranduil suggested_

_"I am content. Besides I wish to see the sun rise. It is my favorite time."_

_They lie down again._

_“It is said that the sylvan have the ability to dissolve into the earth and become part of nature.”_

_“I like that better for you. Forever apart your kingdom, forever watching over your people.”_

_“Your name suits you.”_

_“Dragonslayer?” Bard asks innocently._

_“Hilarious.”_

_“That is all you ever call me so forgive me if I am confused.”_

_“Bard.”_

_“Do not sail, you shall be unhappy, woodland King.”_

He should have listened to Bard.

“Master Gimli, thank you. I did not expect to receive such good advice from a dwarf. Are you blushing? My, my, I discover a new skill every day. My ability to  amaze myself is neverending. ”

“Do not flatter yourself, you overgrown tree. It is simply hot by the hearth.”

“Overgrown tree? Is that the best you can come up with? Here I thought age had made you sharper.”

“Oh I was simply…”

“Is everything all right between the two of you?” Legolas interrupts. “Were you arguing?”

“Of course not./ I wouldn’t waste my breath.” they exclaim in chorus.

Legolas simply raises an eyebrow dubiously.

“There is something lacking.” Thranduil exclaims standing and his people fall silent (it does not warm his heart). “Since when did my people celebrate without song?”

“What shall we sing my king?” one of his minstrels ask.

Thranduil thinks of an anecdote shared with him and a shark like grin spreads upon his face. The elves wait with baited breath. “Tonight we have a dwarf of Erebor amongst us, as well as the infamous burglar. Let us honor an event that brought our people as well as those of Dale together. Ah, Elros is here he shall take the second verse.”

“My king?” Elros asks trepidently.

“You sing it well Elros.” Thranduil says.

Roll-roll-roll-roll,

roll-roll-rolling down the hole!

Heave ho! Splash plump!

Down they go, down they bump!

The elves present laugh. Elros sighs miserably but continues:

Down the swift dark stream you go

Back to lands you once did know!

Leave the halls and caverns deep,

Leave the northern mountains steep,

Where the forest wide and dim

Stoops in shadow grey and grim!

Float beyond the world of trees

Legolas palms his face, but eventually joins in, smiling teasing at Gimli who is glaring at everyone. Thranduil has not felt so festive in a long time.

_“What?!” Thranduil exclaims sitting up so fast that his head spins._

_“I never told you?”_

_“No. And you best continue or I shall have you jailed.” Thranduil exclaims._

_“Jailed, what a way to convince me.”_

_“Fine. I promise more supplies for your people.”_

_“This is not a political matter Thranduil.” Bard says frowning._

_“Fine I promise you a new bow.”_

_“You already gave me one.”_

_“Name your price.”_

_“And you’ll agree?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Allow me to cash on this promise at a later date.”_

_“Very well.”_

_“and you cannot use this at a later date against the dwarves.”_

_“Why are you so cruel?”_

_“Promise.”_

_“I swear.”_

_“As we arrived at port I had fish poured in the barrels over them.” Thranduil laughs freely. “Eru are you serious?” Bard nods. “All this night needs is wine.”_

_“There some in the satchel of my horse. I figured you might like some but I forgot the cups.” Bard tells him and Thranduil wonders how is it that this man can be so wonderful. “But you want to be sober for the rest.”_

_“I will be but  good stories need to be savored over wine and we can drink from the bottle.” Thranduil exclaims calling the horse over. It is the Dorwinion 500, that he offered Bard upon his coronation, perfect for the occasion._

_“Alfrid was about to pour the fish in the lake instead I threatened him with an uprising for waisted merchandise.”_

_“Smart.” Thranduil agree passing the bottle to Bard._

_“But then how to get the dwarves in my house without them being see?” Bard asks taking a small sip. “You have to guess?”_

_“You waited till night fall?”_

_“No. They would have suffocated under the fish.”_

_“You could have hidden them elsewhere before bringing them to your house.”_

_“Too many eyes.”_

_“Tell me.”_

_**“I had them climb through our toilet.”** _

**Author's Note:**

> Mating rituals and surprisingly orgasms tend to vary across species, so I asked myself why not?
> 
> I really like Malrin, though she isn't very likeable in this chapter. Keep in mind that this is the former queen of Greenwood. She and Thranduil have not seen each other in a long time and she has established an entirely different life. 
> 
> Time changes people, the idea that you don't see each other over the course of centuries and immediately jump in the sack is weird to me. I mean Thranduil lived as a widower for a long time, he had to battle the encroaching darkness of Dol Guldur and has gone to bed alone for many centuries, then he loves Bard who is of the same sex, of a different culture and mortal. As for Malrin she dies and is reborn in a foreign land, girl had to fight.
> 
> Because the Avari and Nandor never sailed, they were never influenced by the laws and customs of the eldar established in Valinor. They are more liberal, engaging in premarital sex, allowing same-sex unions, and remarriage in case of death.
> 
> As for Gimli, he acts as a bridge between Valinor and Arda. As a dwarf he is a tangible reminder of life in Arda for all the elves and what they've lost crossing over particularly for the sylvan. He is the son of Gloin, a representative of Dale, and the reminder of the alliance of Erebor, Dale and Greenwood. I like the idea of him and Thranduil becoming friends. I could never see him in a relationship with Legolas (sorry shippers). I'll try to draw his braids or hopefully someone will offer to.
> 
> I am on Tumblr: http://frostedquill.tumblr.com/


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